


Figuratively.

by writing_blockhead



Category: Septiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe- Different Careers, Alternate Universe- Supernatural Elements, Anxiety, BUT there's no bodily fluids involved, Dancer and Choreographer Mark, Dates, Digital Artist Jack, Emetophilia, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Jack is Confused But He Cares, M/M, Mark Has a Weird Ailment, Mark Has to Be Calm But He Has a Lot of Things in His Mind, OKAY i know it says emetophilia in the tags, Weird Ailments, and ever since Katsuki Yuuri exists i sure do love making Mark anxious, if you wanna visualize what Jack's art style is, it's probably because i too have a lot of shit in my mind ahahahah, look up this artist named Japhers bc they're great and local and lovely in personality and art, minor original characters, trust me - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-15 17:37:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9248612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_blockhead/pseuds/writing_blockhead
Summary: Mark has an odd... Disease of sorts. Needless to say, he hates it. He hates that it hinders a perfectly healthy 27-year old man, with a stable job, home and a great dog that he pretty much spends all his free time.He hates that this might potentially ruin his future relationships. Mark also fears the knots in his stomach, preparing for the worst.





	1. bathroom and its blues.

**Author's Note:**

> hello, it's been a while.
> 
> i was busy with school and Yuri on Ice and i wanna cry and also it was birthday at the seventh so *party popper sounds* yay me! i'm 60 twenty-five centavos old!
> 
> here's a fic that's actually was one of my many original concepts i conjured up a year back at summer! the main character was a bi Filipino guy named Viktor Obra who kinda looked like Victor Nikiforov and and he has to cope with his rare and odd disease that's tied to his emotions so he's very stoic and calm most of the time. why, though? you'll see!
> 
> okay here's the fic imma sneak some junk food in k byeeee

"Hey, you in here?"

The only reply the inquirer received was silence, maybe with three dots in a speech bubble. Like a pending message, searching for words. Searching for meaning. Searching for an excuse or two.

"C'mon, buddy. It's gonna be fine."

It wasn't enough to make the force inside the bathroom talk, walk or act. All was heard was a whine beyond the barrier which is made of wood, some metal and a lot of determination from carpenters, architects and painters of buildings and homes. The force outside the bathroom sighed, squatted down to floor. Maybe this is where Mark's lying down, the curious and concerned force wonders.

The beige door only became more blue and blue, also the floor near the vicinity of the bathroom. Tears started to draw themselves on the spread of blue, animately falling down like rain drops and piling themselves to a huge body of water, presumably a flood. This threw the person who knew Mark off, stumbling his squatting position to now sitting to the floor of the dance studio.

Mark felt and is still feeling blue, and what's the use of feeling it?

Actually, there's a million uses for crying. Loss, anger, frustration, regret, hate, sorrow, love, miscommunication, shame, confusion.

Mark regrets for cracking his façade and now he feels exposed. Naked. Ashamed.

What string of events happened before this tragedy of a man broke down and succumbed deep into sorrow and who is is this force named...? Who were they?

"Mark, please come out. I don't—"

"You won't understand! I've never wanted you to see me like this, Jack! Just—"

Now there were thunderstorms and tsunamis on the spreading blue color. What really happened?


	2. the origin of the man. (no, not man; the man)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To know the origin of man is boring.
> 
> To know the origin of the man is more interesting and educational.
> 
> In this case, it's the men. The men taken to interest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mobile typing is suffering and it's late and i have no why do i do this ti myself but i'll keep going because GAMBA GAMBA ALLEZ DAVAI!!!!
> 
> also, if you're wondering why k referred Mark as a "they" at first because Jack doesn't assume gender so when he knew Mark even better, "they" turns to "he". keep that attitude in mind, people!

To summarize who Jack is, give an energetic leprechaun a drawing tablet or a pencil and a piece of paper, an imaginative mind, the want to surprise people and the drive to keep on drawing, even if it's shit. That is who 26-year old Sean William "Jack" McLoughlin or "Jacksepticeye" is.

Being a noteworthy artist, he is bound to have great expectations, feedback and especially fans of his work. Of course, fans, aside from admiring what Jack's collaborative mind and hand can conjure in digital canvas or paper, ask him many questions. Mainly, why does Jacksepticeye draw?

Drawing art was masochistic because you have to recreate what's on your mind and you want it to be the exact thing but somehow, hands don't always cooperate with the cognitive muscles and control center made out of nerves and soft tissues. Jack can see the ups and downs of being an artist, but somehow, his insight is very rose-colored. Not implying that there isn't any fun in drawing art in general.

It's a fun medium of self-expression where you and your hands are the gods of a new world you're ready to make, he'd chipper. His hands itch for a pen or pencil or his stylus and he wanted the scrunching sound of the point or the lead, or the taps of plastic to glass. He loves drawing.

Another question his fans would ask, what does Jack love to draw the most?

Many things that tickle my fancy beard, he'd pipe out, busying himself on the sketch layer. From his visualized interpretations of the entire Yuri on Ice soundtrack, skulls and blood to a detailed sketch of his neighbor's dog butt that he was babysitting, complete with doodley butts around the dog butt. He showed his masterpiece to Mori, the owner, and they printed it in expensive photo paper and framed it in their room as a thank you.

("I'm very grateful for this token of appreciation towards Slider, Jack. I already printed this in photo paper and hung it up at the entrance hallway so people can see this."

"Are you gonna flaunt it to everyone who takes interest to my silly draw, Mori?"

"It is my duty as an embarassing parental figure friend.")

Needless to say, all of the things Jack draws surprises people and unlike Victor Nikiforov, he's not tired on his surprise spiel and he'll keep it up. He craves for the shocked and happy reactions he caters to his followers and fellow friends who are also artists. The comments of his speedpaints is major indicator that the masses who may fancy the piece of art the Irish artist created.

But there's one thing that Jack loves to draw yet he's too shy to show him his works. The man who leads the channel "Marking Steps", Mark. He was in no way a wielder of pens and papers, but a soldier of beauty seen by the fluid or strong movement of his bulky body.

He looks so alluring to Jack's eyes, and he had been a great references for poses in his videos until now. The dancer looked great even; dyed red hair, sharp brown eyes, mouth sadly obscured by a black face mask with a zipper. His appearance screams of mystery Mark dares not to speak, and it intrigued Jack even further. Fascinated him. Enthralled him. Fallen for him.

Jack couldn't deny that he became ~~very~~  smitten to the dancer to his friends, subscribers and followers. Well, he doesn't babble it religiously, but when there's a chance he's able to talk about it, the artist will spill everything about he loves about Mark and his dancing. A man who knows hip hop, contemporary dance and ballet well is someone worth praising.

But as of the recent, it seems like Jack had met someone who rivaled Mark's beauty.

Jack was meant to leave earlier at the nearest diner to his home.  **Really** , he was. It's 7:29 am and he's too lazy to make breakfast today. But fuck, there's one guy who's sitting alone on the counter, taking a break from eating their breakfast and heavens, Jack just wants to know everything about that person and fall for them even more.

For someone who gives a lot of love to his art, people thought that Jack had none left for others. But in reality, Jack has, metaphorically speaking, two big hearts to devote his love; one for the things related ans rotated around art, and another for everything else.

Right now, the person who rivaled Mark's beauty and enigma is peacefully scrolling through his phone, brown eyes covered with square-framed glasses glued to whatever they're seeing. Their black locks covered the left side of his face, minimally obscuring their vision. The person's hands are both occupied; one on the phone and another supporting their chin, elbow resting on the table. Their chin was covered in facial hair, a beard specifically, and their mouth was sporting a small smile and maybe chuckling.

"Fuck, they look nice," Jack muttered, obviously staring at them with intent, looking creepy. "I should probably stop, though."

He reluctantly stood up from his seat and took slow but big steps to the way out, still keeping his eyes on the guy. Now, this is the moment Jack regrets oogling over the beautiful guy because the guy actually turned his head to Jack's general direction and saw him staring at him.

" _Stone me to death, anyone. I beg of you all,_ " Jack pleaded in his head, already planning for his pseudo-death and demise and escaping from his home. " _I'm now charged for being fucking creepy as shit to a guy I didn't even try to meet and I'm ready to-_ "

"-something on my face?"

"Huh?"

When reality is slapping Jack on the face, he was now hyper-aware that,

  1. Attractive Person is looking back at him.
  2. They were talking to him.
  3. Their voice is deep yet masculine, like melting salted caramel.
  4. They were asking if there's something in their perfect and perfectly fine face.



Now that he took all of that in within a span of ten to fifteen seconds, Jack rambled in a very flustered face, "Uh! N-no! It's fine! Your face is very, very fine-Nothing wrong with your perfect face, no way, and-!"

Now the stranger's cheek are blushing a soft pink, not missing a word from Jack's reckless explanation. Jack, also aware on what he said, grew redder in embarrassment and proceeded to turn around and brisk towards the door.

A hand grabbed to his, stopping him from going outside. The artist turned his head around to find the stranger, with a small smile on their face and is Jack hallucinating or did he just see hearts on their eyes for a moment?

"Well," The person said, licking their lips to carefully choose their words (which in Jack's honest opinion, they should and shouldn't stop doing that). "You caught my eye for just standing there and watching me." They chuckled, and then introduced themselves, "I'm Mark, and I want to talk with you, erm..."

"Jack," The artist breathlessly replied. "Well, my real name is Sean, but everyone calls me Jack." Mark raised their brows, curiosity lingering in their eyes. "How so," They asked, perplexed and interested.

It only took that to make them talk and talk for hours end. Knowing each other ("You're Mark from 'Marking Steps?!'" "Yeah, but I didn't know you were the drawing type of guy so that makes both of us." "But your hair?" "I had a haircut ans I dyed it back to black." "Ohhhh. It suits you! I'm a recent fan, so I thought your hair was naturally like that." "Thank you, it's an honor to hear that!"), exchanging numbers, Jack drawing a bit for Mark to show off his skills, and even Mark dragging Jack to the dance studio. (Sadly, they both had to part ways when the studio started filling up with Mark's fellow dancers.)

Promises of texting and calling each other were fulfilled. Promises of even hanging out in real life is also done. From reality to digital mediums , they were talking relentlessly and became close. Closer. Seeing each other in a new light. Mark may be that stoic with a calm demeanor, but Jack had already scratched the surface enough to know a bit more from Mark just by the span of two weeks.

The light became brighter and the image became clearer when Mark popped the question at an uneventful Wednesday afternoon.

* * *

 

**Mark: so hey**

**Jack: yea how's it shaking?**

**Mark: are you like**

**Mark: free this sat or smthng**

**Jack: yeaah???**

**Mark: okay**

**Mark: i just wanna**

**Mark: IF YOU WANNA and i STRESS IF YOU WANNA**

**Jack: angery request**

**Mark: go out sometime???**

**Mark: yes verr angery request**

**Jack: wai t  are You sE  rious?**

**Jack: hell yes???**

**Jack: sign me the fuck up**

**Jack: i've been pining on your for ages but i'm too shy even if i'm loud y'know???**

**Jack: so!!!**

**Jack: when and where???**

**Jack: mark???**

**Jack: heyyyy buddyyyyyy**

**Jack: markimoo are you okay? :(((**

**Mark: ugh sorry stomach queases**

**Mark: like i said this saturday maybe 3pm at our usual spot**

**Jack: oh!!!**

**Jack: i know a place where they make the maddest cold desserts**

**Jack: don't lie to me not having a sweet tooth i saw your marshmallow fluff stash**

**Mark: ah ive been caught**

**Mark: noooo....**

**Mark: but great ill see you then**

**Mark: <3**

**Mark: ah i gtg stomach queases again**

**Jack: are you gonna be okay tomorrow??**

**Jack: i don't want you to go sick or uncomfortable tomorrow**

**Mark: diD YOU JUST ASSUME MY WEAKNESS???**

**Mark: HOW DARE**

**Jack: yeah you're a pretty weak baby tbh**

**Jack: ;9**

**Jack: but if you insist**

**Jack: just be very careful, alright?**

**Jack: i don't want my possible future boyfriend to get hurt!**

**Jack: see ya this saturday, mark!**

**Jack: stay safe!**

**Mark: you too take care**

**Mark: see you as well**

* * *

 


	3. "How to Define Normal from the View of an Oddity: The Guide for Weirdo Dummies"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What are the similarities between metaphors and emotions?
> 
> They're both profound, emotional and intense.
> 
> They don't hold back, and are sometimes explainable.
> 
> In this case, however, it's different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: so  
> me: you got stranded in the school because of the flood  
> also me: uhuh  
> me: and you had to walk from uptown to downtown  
> me: making your feet hurt  
> also me: yea  
> me: how do you feel???  
> also me: like wanting to write a fic i guess

"Normal" is easy to define.

It is to have no error nor excess. It is to be constant, stable and healthy. There are no problems in the nervous system, digestive system, endocrine and exocrine systems and the others.

Normal is easy to define if you're normal.

Mark finds it hard to explain how "normal" he is. If the thought comes up, he'd just abide bt the Merriam-Webster's dictionary definition of normal. Not with his own feelings, but just a paraphrase.

" _Maybe I've lived my life with an outdated definition of normal,_ " He sometimes asked to himself, a coping mechanism to relieve his anxieties and his swarming thoughts.

" _Normal people get butterflies in their stomachs, right?_ "

" _They also get cold feet when they're frozen in fear and nervousness, right?_ "

" _Of course, people boil in anger. They do that when angry, infuriated or annoyed._ "

" _When a person interacts with their person of interest, it feels like your vision gets rose-colored and your heart hammers and leaps out of your chest. That has to be normal._ "

Yes, such emotions are normal. Feeling is normal. Metaphors are used in a daily basis to make dialogue flowery or creative.

Normal. Normal. Normal...

* * *

**But Mark knew better than to deny that he is, in fact, not normal.**

* * *

When anxiety creeps through him, his thoughts swarm around like annoying flies. When he gets nervous, his stomach churns and contracts. He'd go to nearest bathroom or somewhere private to take care of the butterflies in his stomach.

Beautiful may they be, it fills Mark with dread. And his stomach gets even more filled again with lovely butterflies that makes him gag and appears when nervous.

Once the man opens his mouth, butterflies from many sizes, colors and species come out. He coughs and gags and heaves out every last insect from the depths of his stomach, and they go out of the tiny window of his bathroom to be free from the confines of his stomach linings and esophagus. And once it's empty, he breathes in and out. In and out. In, out.

He always practiced to be calm, cool and collected. To keep a tight-lipped mouth, bored lidded eyes and a steady heart beat. If there aren't any available intense feelings, there wouldn't be sweat dropping from his forehead, chin, mouth and eyes. The butterfly-filled anxiety attack will fade once he wills himself to nothing.

Yes, Mark isn't normal. Metaphors related to emotions turn to reality when it comes to his case.

It makes it hard to feel immense joy, sadness, anger, fear, anything. It makes it hard when your feet freeze, you can melt anything with a touch, your skin and surroundings turn blue or a non-grotesque heart actually leaps out of your chest. It never once hurt him, but it did hurt himself and the people around Mark.

Ever since Mark was a kid, he feared feeling too much. Ever since those attacks of intensified emotions, it lost the spark of a lively and positive boy. From just the age of seven, he kept a straight face, a distance from others and an average reputation to avoid attention.

Of course, the boy has needs, too. He can't carry the heavy weight of bottled up emotions inside him for the entire day and let it all out in the confines of his bedroom. The bottle will crack and break and everything will spill, making a mess. His parents, pitied and saddened at the situation Mark is in, decided to find a way or two to release what he feels; an outlet for self-expression.

They gave him three choices; writing, drawing or dancing. They went to a ballet studio upon the boy's request and signed him up for ballet lessons. And ballet wasn't enough, Mark took hip hop and breakdancing classes, and even contemporary. Multiple means to express multiple kinds of feelings, intensity being is chosen form of dance and general situation being his execution. With that, Mark can let everything out. Let all the pent-up frustration, joy or love flow out of his body and into sweat and movements.

Still, there are moments where dancing won't be his outlet for the time being. An example would be his dog and only companion, Chica, a lovely golden retriever, would just be a goofy little puppy and be completely adorable. When she does her own thing, the apartment would be filled with many hearts of different sizes, but no bigger than Mark's fist. After all, it still is his heart.

Dogs, cats and anything that's downright adorable can make Mark's chest heavy and burst out a comical soft heart from it. Sights, songs, works of art and, yes, even people that are beautiful to Mark can make his breath hitch, gag and feel tiny hearts rising from his esophagus. It had been an awfully long time since he found someone beautiful not only in the surface; for that the man was glad.

Until he was convinced that he met a elven fae, living among humans.

~~Sadly, Jack wasn't an elven fae of the sorts. But his fading green as seafoam hair, hidden in a beanie, blue as ice crystal eyes, and petite stature made Mark assume he is one.~~

He was glad that his stomach has developed some sort of immunity to easily throw up because when he went home, the poor lovestricken dancer heaved out everything he got in his stomach, except for his breakfast and mocha. Oddly enough, **Mark felt like it was okay** , with no heap of regret seeing from his eyes (it has the viscosity of tar but the color of midnight blue by the way).

Okay to fall for the man who snapped his self-control with just a few words or a few twitches of his hand.

Okay to take his hand and know his eyes can flash hearts as Jack is being dragged to the dance studio.

Okay to let Jack talk on for hours end in many things, observing and listening.

But as Mark smiled at the thought of Jack as he came home to his apartment, he frowned at the possibility of Jack finding out _**this**_.

He feels it again; the lurch of butterflies when anxiety comes. He knows better not to overthink, but it couldn't be helped.

"Is there anything I can distract myself from this," He asks to himself, desperate for any kind of escape. His hands, never shaky yet he feels it vibrate, reach for the keys of his computer, looking for _something, something, anyone, anything_ to hide away the feeling.

Wait...

"Jacksepticeye? 'Speedpaint; In Love with a Masterpiece Series, We were Friends?' Is this..."

Curious, he clicked on the video to see whatever is in store. It was a process of art video, where a piece is being worked on in a sped-up version. Mark could feel the lumps of tiny hearts in his throat; it was beautiful. The artist drew in a digital canvas, Krita and Photoshop, and it was two men with greyscaled colors. They were a few paces apart, but their hands were connected and bound with a messily wrapped red string of fate, gradient from red to gold when it nears the pinky finger. The first man had one green eye and a blue one, donning a small smile, and the other man's features were not seen because his back was turned away from the viewers. They looked plain as day, but oddly similar to Mark, especially with his white hoodie with slits on the sides.

" _I have a white fitting hoodie that's almost like that_ ," Mark thought as he the watched the cursor add darker shading to the greyscale men. It was interesting and amazing to watch someone draw without being bored at the long length of time it takes to finish it. And when it was done, it was masterpiece. Immense detail and color was added to make something just so unexplainable yet so eye-popping. In the end of the speedpaint, Mark could only utter a, "Wow." and proceeded to the playlist for the In Love with a Masterpiece series

After what seems to be around nine videos, Mark was incredibly enamoured and interested on who the artist is, hopefully his suspicions confirmed. As if the stars aligned for this moment, there was a video of Jacksepticeye's only gaming video from the channel, playing Osu. Mark hoped that they placed a facecam or even just audio of them commentating is fine.

There wasn't a facecam, but Mark knew he didn't need to know who Jacksepticeye is because **it was indeed the same Jack he met in real life**. From his Irish accent, loud volume of voice and the swearing, it was all Jack.

With that, the dancer grinned and let the whatever he's feeling flow. "It's Jack," He whispered. "It's Jack! The guy I love... It's him!"

He knew he should be fretting and preparing for his date at Saturday. He knew.

But now, Mark couldn't just bring himself to care. It was Jack; it was like heaven and hell in a care package of a sweet and obnoxious human being.

He was already counting the hours to Saturday's date, already.

"Can't wait for Saturday, Jack-a-boy."


End file.
